


blushing all the way home

by theaa



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, probably the most self indulgent thing i've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 11:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8011675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theaa/pseuds/theaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Stark family jet has a new man in control. </p>
<p>Ft. Politician's daughter! Sansa and Pilot! Jon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	blushing all the way home

Sansa’s hair catches in the wind, whipping around her face in crimson streaks. Though it’s sunny, the wind in Vermont is strong today and made stronger by the unsheltered expanse of the small private airport runway she’s currently standing to the side of. Above the wind and the whirring of the plane engine she can hardly hear Sandor, her bodyguard, even though he’s stood with her suitcase right next to her. 

She pulls her sunglasses from where they’ve been pushing back her hair and slides them on, squinting to watch the Stark private jet grind to a stop on the tarmac. Within a minute Rodrik Cassel and his daughter Beth are lowering the steps from the small aircraft and Sandor is striding to meet them, carrying all her luggage as if it weighs nothing more than a feather. Sansa follows more sedately behind him, the material of her skirt fluttering around her knees as she walks. Rodrik greets her by the steps and offers her a hand, which she takes politely.

‘Afternoon, Miss Stark. And how was your trip back home?’

‘Just what I needed, thank you Rodrik. How’s father doing?’

‘Very well when I left him, Miss. He’s busy in the office of course, but the campaign seems to be going well.’

Sansa nods and smiles, even though she spoke to her father not three hours ago and knows all this already. The conversation with Eddard had been hurried, snatched in between board meetings, but he was looking forward to seeing his daughter again and told her the jet would be waiting for her at midday to take her back to DC. It was slightly extravagant, sending the family jet just to fetch her, but Sansa was grateful to avoid the long drive, and eager to see her parents, brothers and even Arya again. The short break home had given her well needed breathing space after the ordeal of a break up with Joffrey. Her mother had offered to accompany her back to Vermont, but Sansa had said it was unnecessary, especially when Ned was in the middle of his Vice President bid and needed her support. The couple of weeks back in her childhood house had settled her - from this distance she could see just what a piece of work Joffrey truly had been. She was determined that once she was back in DC she would avoid him as best she could, even if it meant missing out on all the political parties she knew he’d be in attendance at.

When she ducks into the cabin Sandor has already stowed all her bags and settled himself at the back of the aircraft, dark sunglasses still shielding his eyes. Sansa takes one of the seats near the front. Beth hovers near the door to the cockpit, which slides open. Sansa expects to greet Jory, the family pilot and her father’s old friend, but instead a completely different figure stoops to enter the main section of the plane. A head of dark, glossy, wild curls is the first thing she notes, and then when he straightens up, a slightly scruff beard on a strong handsome young face. His white shirt is tucked into a pair of light wash jeans slung low on his hips, and pair of aviator sunglasses dangles from where they are hooked around his neckline, exposing a sliver of dark chest hair. Jory, this was not.

Rodrik turns from where he’s been securing the aircraft door and clears his throat, gesturing to the man now stood in front of her. ‘Miss Stark, this is Mr Jon Snow. He’s the new pilot hired by your family now that Jory’s retired.’

Of course, she remembers Jory telling her about his planned retirement, but that had been months ago, and she’d forgotten all about it until now. Jon gives her a small smile and lifts his hand in greeting. The smile makes his eyes crinkle around the corners, she observes, and is rather lopsided. She springs to her feet, remembering her manners, and thrusts out her hand to shake his.

‘Mr Snow, thank you. It’s good to meet you.’

His handshake is firm and strong, and Sansa takes note of the calloused feeling of his palm in hers, his hand much bigger than her slim and dainty one. Up close his eyes smile more than his mouth does, warm grey irises meeting hers. She resists the urge to blush.

‘The pleasure is all mine,’ he replies, ‘but perhaps you should wait to thank me until I’ve delivered you safe to D.C.’

 ‘Perhaps. This isn’t your first flight is it?’ she finds herself teasing. 

He chuckles. ‘No, you can be rest assured that it isn’t, but it is my first flight for your family, so even if do horribly, you’ll won’t tell your father will you?’

His smile stretches into a lazy grin, and Sansa laughs. “I promise I won’t tell a soul. I’m sure it won’t come to that, though.’

From beside her she hears Rodrik cough again, and she instantly knows that he thinks Jon is being overly friendly and inappropriate, and perhaps he is, but Sansa doesn’t mind. It seems to jolt Jon though, and his smile fades. ‘The flight will take about an hour and half so we should be there by around two pm,’ he tells her more stiffly. Sansa nods.

‘Okay, thank you.’

Jon ducks back into the cockpit and Rodrik follows him, while Beth hurries forward with a glass of water and travel sickness tablet that Sansa murmurs her thanks for. As always, Sansa’s stomach swoops uncomfortably during take off, but settles once the aircraft levels off. Behind her it takes Sandor mere minutes to nod off, and Beth hovers around her, ready to provide whatever Sansa wishes. Sansa picks out a textbook from her handbag, trying to concentrate on a chapter for her PoliSci class in the Fall, but her eyes keep skipping over words and jumbling sentences and soon she gives up. Her eyes keep straying instead to the door to the cockpit, behind which she knows is Jon. She’s never tried to enter the cockpit before, but she wonders if Rodrik would stop her if she attempted to slide back the door. Surely she’d be able to talk to Jon whilst he put the plane on auto-pilot. That was a thing he could do, wasn’t it?

As it is, she stays in her seat, the fear of Rodrik disapproving and not wanting to distract Jon while he was working keeping her seatbelt buckled. As promised, Jon brings the plane to a practiced and smooth touch down at near two pm sharp. Sandor rouses himself as the plane lands and sets about gathering her bags. When they’re ready to dismount and Jon still hasn’t appeared Sansa knocks hesitantly on the cockpit door before opening it. Jon is sat in the pilot’s seat, the radio in the large control panel crackling with static and indistinguishable voices while he fiddles with a dial. The control panel is huge, lit up with reds and greens across the board, but Sansa grins when she notices a small blinking button that reads ‘autopilot’. 

‘Jon.’

He starts, twisting around in the leather seat to face her. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, which Sansa put down to the warm temperature of the cabin, sunlight streaming in from the wide wrap around windshield. 

‘Miss Stark! How was your flight?’

‘Sansa,’ she corrects him quickly, not wanting the formality of her surname between them. ‘It was lovely, thank you. I’ll be sure to tell my father what a good job you did.’

‘Much appreciated. Do you know how long you’re staying in DC?’

‘Until my father has to leave for his political tour in about a month, I expect. What about you?’

She berates herself as soon as she asks, because of course Jon has to stay wherever they are, always on call, but Jon just shrugs. ‘I’ll be around, I’m sure. If you ever find yourself at a loose end while your father is working, perhaps you’d like to come down to the airport. I’m sure I could arrange some private flying lessons for you.’ 

He suggests this easily, with only a slight twist of a smile behind his words, but Sansa’s grateful Beth and Rodrik are still outside helping Sandor with the luggage and attending to the plane, because they’d surely think him inappropriate this time. She can’t fight the blush that creeps up around her cheeks and neck, her eyes wandering towards the dark vee in his collared shirt, reddening her skin further. 

‘I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,’ is all she manages in reply, and Jon flashes her a grin.

‘Excellent. Until next time, Miss Stark.’

Sansa smoothes a hand down her navy skirt and gives him a smile in return. ‘Goodbye, Jon.’

She leaves him in the cockpit and takes Rodrik’s hand to guide her down the steps, feeling surprisingly unsteady on her feet. Back on the tarmac Sandor raises a single eyebrow in her direction, but says nothing. Sansa turns to bid goodbye to the Cassels and then strides towards the arrivals gate, imagining Jon watching her from his pilot’s chair as she walks away.

She wonders if the flying lessons he promised were real, or perhaps just an excuse for something else entirely, and she spends the entire length of the taxi back to the town house distracted by thoughts of little else. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Taylor Swift's 'Enchanted.' This is definitely the most self-indulgent thing I've written. I'm Theawants on Tumblr. Come find me.


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